


Do Humans Dream of Mammalian Sheep?

by Lokorfi



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Big angst, Gen, big sad, like angst, short but bitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 06:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokorfi/pseuds/Lokorfi
Summary: Connor questions the burdens of age and of life at a dear friend's grave.





	Do Humans Dream of Mammalian Sheep?

**Author's Note:**

> Written after some poking and prodding from the Detroit: Become Human discord server that I'm a part of. Love you guys!

“Hank,” Connor begins uncertainly.

 

It all felt new to him. For once since his activation, he is… lost for words. Then again, there have been a lot of firsts for him since he was created. His deep, long-lasting friendship with Hank Anderson was one of them. His mourning for Hank Anderson, however, was not one that he had anticipated. 

 

“Hank… it has been 3 days, 7 hours, 42 minutes and 11 seconds since your passing.” He winces at his words and clears his throat. “I apologize. I admit… this all seems new to me.”

 

No response. Though he swears, with his ever so scrutinizing eyes, that the ground shifted underneath, as if he would rise from the ground to give him a righteous smack on the side of the head for being “an idiot.” His facial muscles twitch into a smile ever so slightly.

 

Funny, how Connor thinks of himself now. No longer an it, but a man. No longer a slave to a higher command. He is as human as he could ever be.

 

This grim reminder just shows that he isn’t human enough.

 

“I remember the first time I met you, drinking yourself to death at Jimmy’s. It’s uh.. it’s almost funny to me, remembering how I first interacted with you. I suppose it must’ve been weird, enjoying your Detroit game and I pretty much drag you out of the bar.” He chuckles a bit and scratches his arm awkwardly.

 

“The years since then have been wonderful. Just relaxing, no more missions… no more investigations. Just some time to sit down and talk. Explore the city. Watch as the world grows more accepting of us.”

 

Connor fiddles with his tie a bit, the knot starting to feel uncomfortable. “Markus wanted to send his condolences. He wished he could have come accompany me, but he’s much too busy for that sort of thing. I suppose becoming an all-new ambassador of an intelligent species will do that to you.”

 

He smiles softly before sombering.

 

“It’s different, not being able to see you. The real you… anymore. Even if my memory modules-- my memory can pull out each detail of you in my mind’s eye, it’s not the same. It will never compare, I think.”

 

Connor pauses and pulls out a coin from his pocket. He remembers Hank fumbling over it, trying to flick it to and fro.

 

“I think you would appreciate this. I don’t have much to give, since owning private property hasn’t exactly been a priority before so..”

 

He kneels down, kisses the coin softly, and leans it on Hank’s grave.

 

“Who knows?” His face twitches again, for some unknown reason. “Maybe if androids and humans share a heaven, I could teach you a few coin tricks of my own.”

 

He stays that way, just a little while longer -- as if to hold on to the idea that Hank was still there, watching him quietly. He felt something trickling from his eyes. “I just… um..” He puts his fingers to his cheek and wipes away at it, but it keeps coming and that strange feeling bubbles up and it hurts--

 

“Hank, I-I… I don’t understand-”

 

His hands clutch the soil, that freshly dug earth, clutching at it to bring him back, give him back, even if it goes against all logic and reasoning, all that shit that keeps him functioning--

 

“Come on Hank, just you and me, w-we’re partners remember?”

 

That throbbing in his chest, threatening to spill and burst, like a hole that keeps growing wider and wider--

 

“What do I do without you?! I’m only here because of you!”

 

His breathing is ragged, choked, gasping-- “This…this hurts.. so damn much.. Why.. ?” He leans his head against that cold stone, so devoid of warmth and colour. This grave does nothing to represent the type of stubborn, brash, caring, and kind man that Hank was.

 

His voice is hoarse and scratched as he pleads for- “Just a little while longer, that’s… that’s all I need..”

 

He breaks off in a sob and his eyes, those damned perfect eyes, see through the stream of tears. They see the name engraved and are forced to accept that painful, cold reality.

 

It takes a while for Connor to find the strength to stand up again, but he does. The sun is beginning to set, casting a quiet shadow over the rows of grey. The grass bristles ever so slightly, to remind one of the passage of time. He looks up to the sky, a hue of red pouring out across the vast expanse.

 

Eyes that will never fail, hair that will never grey, blue blood that will never clot… Life that will never fade. So close to humanity, and yet so far. A painful journey to become what they were never meant to be. How cruel. He smiles bitterly.

 

“Goodbye, Lieutenant.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Hank Anderson**

**September 6, 1985 - November 8, 2057**

 


End file.
